


Screw the Queen's Jewels!

by pensversusswords



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BBC Muskateers, Alternate Universe - Historical, Guns, M/M, Making Out, Swordfighting, Viktor and Yuuri can't keep their hands off of each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 21:43:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13749804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensversusswords/pseuds/pensversusswords
Summary: Viktor can't help that he's hot for Yuuri's skill with his sword. Yuuri can't help that he's hot for Viktor's skill with a pistol.It makes their line of work a bit difficult, but it's nothing that can't be solved with stolen moments in dark alleyways.





	Screw the Queen's Jewels!

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [lavenderfrost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderfrost). Visit me on my social media to ask about requests! Links are in the end notes. <3
> 
> Loosely based off of the BBC Musketeers series, but you don't have to watch it to understand the fic. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Yuuri Katsuki can pinpoint the exact moment he knew that he was utterly gone for Viktor Nikiforov. It sounds silly, he knows that, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

It didn’t take long after they met, which should be surprising considering the fact that their first meeting involved Yuuri trying to kill Viktor with fury behind his blade. He still remembers Viktor’s face clearly in his mind: his surprise at Yuuri’s tightly controlled yet fierce anger when he called out to him, the self-assured curve of Viktor’s lips when Yuuri drew his sword into his hand. Viktor had looked so unalarmed considering he had a sword pointed in his face.

Yuuri knows how he must’ve looked standing there with his face so stony and focused, hurling accusations of murder at a man he’d never met. “You murdered my father,” he’d shouted, and Viktor had given him a smile that dug its way under Yuuri’s skin and made its home there.

It hadn’t been a fight either of them expected to lose. Later, Viktor told Yuuri that his conviction intrigued him, despite his confusion and his own confidence that he’d beat Yuuri. He’d never been challenged quite like that, Viktor said, and he’d liked it.

But he’d been surprised when Yuuri had held his own until their duel was interrupted by the other musketeers, and Yuuri had seen it on his face every time he met Viktor blow for blow. He’d relished the astonishment on Viktor’s face.

He’d hated Viktor then, yes, but that was the beginning of Yuuri’s addiction to surprising Viktor Nikiforov.

It didn’t take long for it to become more than that.

With Viktor’s name cleared of the murder of Yuuri’s father, they were free to form a bond with each other as fellow musketeers, which meant that Yuuri was suddenly subjected to an onslaught of Viktor’s relentless flirtations. Yuuri had started to think that it was just Viktor’s default personality, considering all the lingering looks and charm he threw Yuuri’s way. Of course, it took Yuuri a while to realize why it affected him so much.

It was an uneventful night, a boring to say the least. They were holed up at a tavern, taking a moment to indulge in a few moments of peace with no missions at hand. Yuuri wasn’t drinking because he didn’t feel like dealing with a hangover in the morning. Viktor wasn’t drinking because—well, who knew why Viktor wasn’t drinking. Back then, Yuuri had no idea why that Viktor did anything—that infuriatingly handsome, enigmatic man. Viktor was good at hiding his motivations and convictions when he wanted to.

Yuuri remembers his feet being kicked up to rest on the side of Phichit’s chair, leaning back in his seat as he only half paid attention to what he and Chris were talking about until Phichit whacked his knee good-naturedly to get his attention.

“You’re unbeatable, aren’t you, Yuuri?” Phichit grins at him, his words slurred together just enough for Yuuri to be able to tell that he was halfway to needing to be carried home on Yuuri’s back. “You’re the best swordsman I know. In the world, probably!”

Yuuri had shrugged, the rise and fall of his shoulders non-committal. He was good, yes, but he didn’t see much difference between him and the other musketeers. They were all good. It was their duty to be good. “I’m no better than most, I’d say.”

Phichit had swatted at him again while Yuuri glared half-heartedly. “You know that’s not true. Even Viktor has never really had a clean win with you.”

“Hasn’t he?” Yuuri asked, knowing full well that that was true.  

“No, I haven’t,” Viktor confirmed, and Yuuri was forced to look over at him. He was smiling, the real smile Yuuri had noticed only made its appearance when the four of them were on their own. His head was tilted to one side, making his silver hair fall gently over his forehead, an unreadable expression bright and intent in his blue eyes. “Do you think I can beat you, Yuuri?”

That’s all it had taken to encourage Phichit and Chris.

Because apparently Yuuri has no control over his life, it’d only been a few moments later when they were all stumbling out into the dusk shadowed street with their swords already drawn. Chris and Phichit were loud and boisterous with drink singing sweetly in their veins, but Yuuri was only paying attention to Viktor, who tossed his sword from hand to hand with a playful challenge glinting in his eyes.

“Come on, Yuuri,” Viktor called out cheerfully as he expertly spun his sword, a movement that had no function but to show off. “I’m waiting!”

Yuuri wouldn’t have approached him on his own with this challenge, but once he was in the moment, he was more than willing to accept it. He remembers standing there with curious eyes watching him but not feeling them at all, only focused on Viktor’s face, only focused on the part of his mind that wanted to _show_ Viktor what he’s capable of.

It had been Viktor who made the first move, springing forward with confidence in his fluid movement. Yuuri had always admired the elegant way he moved so easily, with so much grace.  

But it hadn’t been the time for him to stop admire Viktor’s moves. He was a musketeer, a swordsman and a fighter through and through—he was more than able to ignore a beautiful man’s rather distracting qualities for long enough to beat him.

Fighting with Viktor was always invigorating. Every time their swords clashed together, Yuuri felt the force of it down to his bones.

Viktor had made a rather undignified sound when Yuuri finally saw the perfect opening, leapt forward and feinted left, only to move right at the last minute and stick his foot behind Viktor’s and send him flying to the ground. Yuuri would be lying if he were to say that he didn’t feel a rush of satisfaction as he landed on top of Viktor with his sword a hair’s width away from his throat, the steel kissing the pale skin of his neck.

Instead of glowering in anger at the defeat, Viktor had smiled up at him, beaming widely as he lay there panting on the ground with Yuuri’s body pressing him down. Yuuri’s heart had been doing its best to beat out of his chest, and he couldn’t tell if it was from the exertion or if it was from the way that Viktor was looking at him. Why was he _looking_ at him like that, Yuuri had wondered. He knows now, of course, but at the time it’d been a mystery. Viktor had always confused him, back then.

“Well,” Viktor had said between panting breaths, “I think you beat me, Yuuri.”

“I did,” Yuuri confirmed with absolute surely. He’d beaten him _well,_ too. It was a clean win and Yuuri had mind enough to admit to that. Yuuri had been proud of himself.

Yuuri won’t ever forget the way that Viktor’s eyes had sparkled then, mischief playing around the corners of his mouth before he spoke. “It’s a good thing that I like a man who can get me on my back.”

“Shameless flirt” was a title that Viktor had rightfully earned and there was absolutely no doubt as to why that was the case. Yuuri had been slowly getting used to it, blushing less when Viktor turned his flirtations on him. Something about this moment, though, with the adrenaline from the win still fresh in his veins, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, Viktor’s attention on him and him alone—it’d been too much.

 _Oh,_ he’d thought. _This is how I feel._

Unable to help himself, Yuuri had felt the blush rush over his face like a storm. “I-I…” he’d said oh-so-eloquently and had scrambled to get off of Viktor so quickly that he nearly tripped over his own feet trying to get upright. Out of politeness he’d reached down to lend a hand to Viktor and hoisted him to his feet, shivering at the warm clasp of his fingers around his own. He’d stammered out an apology and turned on his heel to head back into the tavern, ignoring the hoots and jibes from Chris and Phichit as he went.

Thankfully, it’d only been a few weeks after that when Yuuri had a few too many drinks and finally, _finally,_ pressed Viktor against a wall and kissed him breathless.

And that’s exactly what he wants to do right now.    

It’s Viktor’s fault, really. When they’d managed to catch up to Bonnaire just hours earlier, he’d taken the lead with his clever tongue while Phichit and Chris stood looking as intimidating as possible, each of them holding one of Bonnaire’s arms as they held the less-than-impressive criminal to the wall. Yuuri had quietly hung back, his hand loosely around the hilt of his sword at his hip, prepared for Bonnaire to be an idiot and do something stupid just as he always does.

“We’re in a bit of a hurry, so if you could so kindly tell us who you sold the Queen’s jewels to, you could save us all some time here.” Viktor had been standing in front of Bonnaire with his hip cocked slightly, his hand on his hip right next to his pistol. Viktor always held such a commanding presence—his posture, the cool smile on his face, the false cheer in his voice that managed to sound more intimidating than if he were to yell in anger. After getting to know Viktor and falling in love with him, he knows when Viktor is hiding his annoyance behind his signature smile. Yuuri could tell then that he’d absolutely had enough of Bonnaire and his already low level of patience was being worn thin.

Which is why Yuuri was entirely unsurprised when, as Bonnaire was in the middle of stammering out excuses, insisting that he had nothing to do with the theft of the Queen’s precious jewels, Viktor whipped his pistol out of its holster, spun it expertly in his fingers in a fraction of a moment, pointed and shot at Bonnaire.

The ungodly squeal that came out of Bonnaire was pitiful. The rest of them didn’t even flinch, because they knew that Viktor wasn’t careless (or cruel) enough to kill a suspect in cold blood out of annoyance, despite his reputation for being the type to do exactly that.

Instead, with lightning quick speed and perfect accuracy, Viktor shot right next to Bonnaire’s ear, close enough for it to make Bonnaire’s ear ring and frighten him. Viktor hadn’t even hesitated; he knew with the utmost certainty that he wouldn’t miss. He knew his pistol like it was an extension of his hand, knew the trajectory of each bullet without having to think about it.

He’d stood there, arm outstretched with his pistol lingering on Bonnaire, his smile wide and so falsely bright that it could easily blind someone.

Yuuri’s entire body has been feeling hot ever since.

Maybe it was because they haven’t had a chance to lay together for weeks now, too busy with consecutive missions and too tired to do anything when they weren’t busy. Whatever the reason, the sudden reminder of Viktor’s skill with his pistol was enough to make Yuuri want to ditch the suspect, say “screw the Queen’s jewels!” and drag Viktor off to the nearest inn for a romp in the sheets.

He doesn’t do that, of course, but by _God_ does he want to.

Yuuri is in luck, though. He finds his salvation in a stranger.

They are mounting their freshly watered horses to deliver the jewels that they retrieved from Bonnaire’s buyer, which are safely tucked away in Phichit’s saddlebag, when a man comes stumbling into the street. His hair is disheveled and his face is harried. He has the look of urgency and distress written all over him.

“You look like you’re in dire straits,” Viktor calls out to him, peering over at him curiously from atop his perch on his horse.

“I’d be less so if I could speak with Christophe,” the man says, only half paying attention to Viktor. His eyes are fixed on Chris.

Chris hesitates with a strange expression on his face before he turns to Viktor. “The Queen won’t truly be affected by a few more minutes of missing her jewels, you don’t think _cherie_?”

Viktor chuckles and waves a hand. “Go on, Chris. We’ll wait a moment.”

As Chris dismounts his horse and tosses the reins to Phichit, Yuuri takes his chance.

“Viktor,” he says. Viktor turns to him immediately with a questioning brow raised. “I’d like to speak with you for a moment,” Yuuri continues after clearing his throat.

“Of course,” Viktor says quickly. He dismounts as well and hops to the ground with lightness in his step, ties his horse up next to Yuuri’s.

“We’ll be back soon, Phichit,” Yuuri calls out as he grabs Viktor’s arm and begins to pull him towards a secluded alleyway he’d noticed earlier. He ignores Phichit’s laugh in their wake. 

“What is it, my love?” Viktor says as he rounds the corner. “Is everything—”

Viktor isn’t permitted to complete that sentence, because, in one fluid, practiced movement, Yuuri wraps one hand around the back of Viktor’s neck and pushes him back against the stone wall. Yuuri barely allows himself to enjoy the slack-jawed surprise on Viktor’s face before he leans in and presses their mouths together hungrily.

When their lips collide, Viktor makes a low sound of confusion, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air at Yuuri’s sides, but Yuuri ignores it and kisses him thoroughly. Viktor’s confusion only lasts a moment before his arms are circling around Yuuri and he’s kissing back with just as much enthusiasm. Yuuri’s hands find their place curled in Viktor’s hair and on the lapel of his leather jacket, while Viktor’s hands find purchase at Yuuri’s hips.

“You shouldn’t call me that in public, you know,” Yuuri says when he’s finally had his fill and pulls away enough to talk.

Viktor quirks a brow; an expression that might have looked cool and collected if he weren’t staring at Yuuri with stars in his eyes, mussed hair, and flushed cheeks. Yuuri loves his tousled hair. He loves that he was the one to make it look like that. “And why not?” he asks petulantly. “If anyone has not figured out by now that we are lovers, then I’m not sure that would be the thing to finally tip them off.”

Yuuri laughs under his breath. It’s true, they’re not exactly secretive about it. “Chris and Phichit don’t need any more fuel against us, don’t you think?”

Viktor scoffs, squeezes Yuuri around his waist. “Let them talk!” he proclaims, leaning in to steal another kiss from Yuuri’s lips.

“They already do,” Yuuri reminds him wryly. “Thanks to your lack of secrecy.”

“Mmm,” Viktor says, his eyes dancing. “But I’m not the one who dragged me off to embrace, my Yuuri.”

Yuuri fights the heat that builds in his cheeks. “Viktor…”

“Nothing to be ashamed of, Yuuri. I love when you do that.”

Oh, Yuuri isn’t ashamed.

He shifts forward then, pressing one thigh between Viktor’s and leaning in so that their bodies are pressed together. He’s rewarded with a delightful little gasp from Viktor, whose hands flex on Yuuri’s waist. Suddenly Yuuri hates how much clothes they’re both wearing—why do their outfits involve so much thick leather? He wants to feel Viktor’s warmth against his body.

“Hush,” he says firmly, giving Viktor’s hair a teasing little tug with the hand that still rests on the back of his head.

“I’m just curious what has you so worked up, my Yuuri,” Viktor ponders teasingly. One of his hands creep beneath the hem of Yuuri’s jacket and he splays his fingers over the curve of his hip. Yuuri forces himself not to shudder at the sudden warmth of his hand on his bare skin.

Once, that would have rendered him speechless, but now he’s equipped to deal with Viktor’s flirtations.

With one hand still tangled in Viktor’s hair and his lips a breath away from Viktor’s, he moves one hand to Viktor’s pistol. Eyes unmoving from Viktor’s face, he slides the pistol out of its holster, the weight of it heavy in his hand. He turns his head away from Viktor’s as he lifts the pistol. He hears Viktor’s breathing catch in his throat when he presses a kiss to the cold metal barrel.

Yuuri looks back to Viktor then, the pistol back into its holster. Viktor’s wide-eyed stare makes his whole body feel charged with energy. “You know what it does to me when you show off.”

Viktor laughs nervously. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t showing of. Just doing my job.”

“Mmm,” Yuuri hums. Viktor makes a low whimper when Yuuri brings his leg up slightly, makes him press teasingly against Viktor’s crotch. “I think you were.”

“Yuuri—” Viktor says helplessly. He’s gripping Yuuri’s hips so tightly now that Yuuri is certain that the skin around his fingertips are as pale and bloodless. “You’re so—”

“Kiss me,” Yuuri commands.

Viktor does.

This kiss is more frantic and urgent than the last ones were, their mouths pressed together so fervently as they clutch at each other. Yuuri can feel desire running molten through his veins—he can feel himself stirring in his pants and Viktor’s mouth is so warm and inviting, he just wants to take Viktor to bed _right now_ and—

“If you two are quite done groping each other,” Chris’ voice rings out, “You might be interested to know that I’ve returned!”

Both of them groan at the interruption, breaking the kiss reluctantly.

“Damn it,” Viktor grumbles, ducking his head down to rest it on Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri has to agree.

“Can’t be helped,” Yuuri sighs. “They’re going to give us shit for this, you know.”

“That also can’t be helped,” Viktor says forlornly, straightening up once again with a grimace.

Yuuri huffs out another sigh and steps back out of Viktor’s arms even though every fiber of his being wishes that he wouldn’t. He reaches down to straighten out his clothes as Viktor does the same, even though they both know it won’t really do any good.

“Well,” Viktor says, “we’ve got a job to finish.”

Yuuri nods and follows Viktor back out into the street.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on [my tumblr](http://pensversusswords.tumblr.com/) or [my twitter](http://twitter.com/pensvsswords)!


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